


Precisely What You Need

by CatKing_Catkin



Series: The Branding of Caleb Widogast [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxious Caleb Widogast, Arson, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Dancing, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hurt Caleb Widogast, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mind Rape, Not Canon Compliant, POV Mollymauk Tealeaf, Panic Attacks, Past Torture, Police Brutality, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rebellion, Rescue, Revenge, Running Away, Self-Loathing Caleb Widogast, Sequel, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2020-06-26 16:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19771786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatKing_Catkin/pseuds/CatKing_Catkin
Summary: Sequel to "More Than This".Though the Mighty Nein were able to restore Caleb's mind, the brand on his forehead betrays the other scars he still carries from his ordeal. As the Empire's policy of punishing "unauthorized mages" by branding their flesh and breaking their minds becomes more widespread, Caleb finds himself struggling beneath the feelings of fear and violation that he was never truly able to address before.He turned aside from retribution once already in the hopes of keeping his friends safe from the falling hammer, but the Mighty Nein have grown stronger since the tower fell. Mollymauk seeks to encourage him towards the idea that the time to strike back might be fast approaching. And perhaps, in the light of a corrupt institution burning down, Molly and Caleb might finally find their way together.





	1. Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> What better way to celebrate Mollymauk Day than to return to the first fic I ever wrote with him? 
> 
> I know I left Caleb and Molly's story pretty open-ended last time, mostly because - at the time - I didn't really have the confidence to stick with it and tell it fully. But 2019 seems to be the year for picking up what grief made me put down. So let's see if I can give them a proper happy ending this time, shall we? 
> 
> I know it's been a long time, but I hope you enjoy!

It wasn’t unusual for Caleb to disappear during a shopping trip, but it was unusual for him to do so without Nott.

It was when Molly saw the little goblin looking around anxiously, obviously trying to spot the wizard through the market crowds, that he knew to be worried.

He caught her eye and motioned to indicate that he shared her worry. No further words needed to be said – they simply nodded to one another and set off to properly search.

Molly found him first, which would later turn out to be a very lucky thing. He found Caleb huddled within the mouth of a dingey alleyway, talking in a low voice to someone Molly could not see, someone huddled behind a few empty barrels.

“—to take you to see a cleric? No friends to look after you? Let me see your eyes…ah. Not even a familiar to hunt for you. Shh, no need to be afraid, I am not here to hurt you—”

Caleb got to his feet and moved off deeper into the alley. Molly risked creeping closer to see what was going on. He saw another man there, huddled in the shadows, a stranger – but the man caught sight of Molly, too, and hissed at the tiefling’s approach. That got Caleb’s attention, too, and he whirled around with a knife in hand, instantly on guard. Molly held up his hands on instinct and, after a few tense seconds, Caleb relaxed and turned away again.

Molly saw the knife flash as Caleb threw it at something that let out a shrill _squeak_ , then went to retrieve the blade. He came back with the knife in one hand and a dead rat in the other. Frumpkin made a muffled sound as he seemed to materialize out of the shadows with another dead rat in his mouth.

When Molly tried to move closer, the tattered stranger growled at him again, tensed as though to spring, his gaze darting between Molly and Caleb – or, more specifically, the prey Caleb and his cat brought forth. “One moment, please, Mollymauk,” Caleb murmured, kneeling down before the man and offering the little carcass. Frumpkin dropped his own prize at the stranger’s feet, and then they both stepped back.

The man wasted no further time, grabbing up the rat and tearing into the raw, bloody flesh with his teeth. Caleb went to sit on the barrel and watch him eat, then motioned for Molly to come closer. Molly did so, though he still stepped carefully, but once he stood beside Caleb he was able to see what was wrong. _Ah_. The stranger’s hair had been messily shorn quite recently, his bangs sawed off to better expose his forehead, and on the skin of his forehead was an ugly, official looking brand – the sort that got applied to cattle or, nowadays, “unauthorized mages”.

It was the very same brand currently hidden by a makeshift bandana Caleb kept tied around his forehead nowadays.

“There but for the grace of you go I,” said Caleb quietly.

Molly found that he wasn’t quite sure what to say about that. “You’re getting pretty good with that knife,” he said instead.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Caleb smile. “Nott and I have been practicing. I even sharpen it myself now, just as you said I should.”

“Good. It’s important to take care of your things.”

Silence fell between them for a moment, broken by the wet, bloody sounds of the man eating.

“Was I like this?” Caleb asked at last. “Like—” He gestured to encompass the huddled, filthy, starving figure.

That was a curious question. Molly let out a noncommital sort of hum, still unsure what Caleb was getting at, wary of betraying his thoughts one way or another until he knew. “You don’t remember?”

“I remember what I saw and felt. I don’t remember how, um, how I _seemed_.”

“Does it matter? Sure, sometimes you ate raw rats, and sometimes you growled at us, but the world is probably a pretty scary place when you can’t understand what anyone is saying to you.”

“It was more than that.” Molly felt Caleb’s hand seeking for his, groping blindly, and he gently took hold of it without looking over at the other man. Caleb probably didn’t even consciously realize he was reaching out, and he would be desperately embarrassed if Molly brought it to his attention. “It wasn’t just being unable to understand, it was _knowing_ that I should have understood. That I was more, and had been made less.”

“You weren’t _less_ , Caleb.” He understood his friend’s meaning, but the choice of word still rankled him, especially when it hewed so closely to how Caleb still tended to talk about himself. “ _I_ remember that even when you were hurt so badly, you still tried to help us, tried to watch over us, you tried to bloody _feed_ us with whatever Frumpkin would catch for you. You were broken down to the barest essentials and you were still a good man. _I’d_ call that worthwhile.”

The conviction in his voice was born of experience. Molly knew that he’d danced very close to that low point of Caleb’s life at the start of his own, and he hadn’t been half as useful, half as helpful, half as attentive and kind as Caleb had managed to be when stripped of his words, his magic, and his mind.

It was one of the many reasons why Molly loved him, and even if neither of them were ready to do anything about that, he was still determined to find ways to convey that love however he could, every single day.

Even in the shade of the alleyway, he could see Caleb’s cheeks go faintly pink, could see the barest hint of a smile flicker over his face as brief and bright as summer lightning. “You know what I mean,” he muttered, his gaze falling to his feet.

“I do,” said Molly easily. “And you know what _I_ mean.”

Caleb nodded, just once, and gave Molly’s hand a squeeze. “I do.” A beat, and then: “Thank you.”

“Always a pleasure.” He kissed Caleb’s cheek, then gestured to the branded man busily gnawing away on the second rat. “So. What shall we do about this one?”

Caleb worried at his lower lip. “I don’t know if there is anything to be done. Temples of the, ah, the approved gods, they are forbidden from curing this magic. I’ve still heard the rumors that it might wear off eventually, but…”

But they’d only ever been anything but rumors so far. Neither of them had ever seen someone break the effects on their own, and so Molly understood when Caleb trailed away. The human heaved a sigh, his shoulders slumping a little beneath the weight of that thought. “Perhaps we take him to a temple anyway. Someone there might feed him, surely. Keep him out of the cold, the rain.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s one of the things temples are supposed to do,” Molly agreed with an easy nod. “Besides preaching. Pretty sure you need to do other things to get people in the door for the preaching.”

This actually earned a brief little laugh from Caleb. The sound still meant the word, and Molly mentally patted himself on the back. “ _Ja_. So they say.”

“He seems to trust you and Frumpkin. Why don’t you steer him along, and I’ll clear a path, so to speak? The Platinum Dragon seems to be the top dog in this city, so we can start there.”

“All right.”

Molly retreated to lean against the wall beside the alley and wait while Caleb coaxed the branded man first to stand, and then to creep out of the alley and back onto the main street with them. It took some doing, but that was no surprise. Molly remembered the effort it had taken Caleb to even venture into the tiny hamlet town that housed the hidden temple to the Traveler. They’d only even bothered to make the effort when they’d been sure their path was clear.

Unfortunately, the time it took for Caleb to get the man up and moving proved to be time they didn’t have. Molly saw the Crownsguard scant seconds before the Crownsguard saw them, but that still didn’t leave him with nearly enough time to do anything besides tug on Caleb’s sleeve and point.

Caleb’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowed, and Molly saw his grip go white-knuckled where it gripped their charge’s sleeve. Down at his feet, Frumpkin arched his back and hissed, a high and angry sound which trailed away to a low growl that Molly swore he could feel in the soles of his boots. But they both stood their ground as the Crownsguard drew near, walking with a purposeful stride and shoving his way when necessary through the crowd of people just trying to enjoy a market day.

Unfortunately, out of the corner of his eye, Molly could see that their new friend was starting to lose what little he’d regained of his nerve. He was trembling like a leaf, staring at the Crownsguard with wide, teary eyes, opening and closing his mouth again and again even though only broken, frightened little croaks emerged. Caleb continued to try and soothe him, murmuring to him in a deliberately soft and gentle voice. He even bent down to gather Frumpkin into his arms, clearly meaning to offer his familiar to ground the other man as Frumpkin had so often done for him in a similar state. It sank in a second too late for Caleb and Molly both that doing so had necessitated taking his hands off the man entirely and taking his hands away was exactly the wrong thing to do.

Taking advantage of finding himself suddenly unrestrained by anything, perhaps given a fresh burst of speed by the food in his stomach, the branded man turned and fled with a muffled shriek of panic. “Wait!” Caleb called, turning to start following him. Biting back a wince, hating himself for it all the while, Molly caught his wrist and held him back. Caleb rounded on him instead, baring his teeth in a snarl, but Molly refused to flinch and shook his head.

They’d do themselves no favors in fleeing like criminals when the very fact that Caleb was capable of speech and magic right now meant that, in a way, they very much were criminals. There were some things that it didn’t pay to advertise. They could find the unfortunate man again later, but not if they had to make a bigger mess trying to avoid an arrest.

Fortunately, after a second of stillness, Caleb’s wits seemed to return to him enough to understand that much. His expression remained stony, but he gave a short, sharp nod, tugged his arm out of Molly’s grip, and pulled himself together for the sake of facing the Crownsguard.

“What were you two doing, then?” the man demanded, drawing himself up self-importantly.

Molly had an answer ready. “Our friend had a bit too much too early. We were waiting while he emptied his guts and then we were going to help him walk it off before you went and spooked him, _friend_.” With a practiced casualness, he took one step forward and a half step to the right, putting himself ever-so-slightly between the guard and Caleb. Caleb didn’t need to be dealing with this. Caleb didn’t need any more reminders.

Besides, Molly knew from plentiful past experience that the very sight of him was usually enough to offend the average Crownsguard into not paying attention. Sure enough, the man’s eyes narrowed at the sight of such a shamlessly gaudy, obviously vagabond tiefling confronting him so boldly. “I recognize that man. That man is a criminal in the eyes of the King and the Empire – an unauthorized mage. He’s serving his time and he’ll have no aid.”

“And how were we supposed to know that?”

“Don’t you give me that.” The guard jabbed Molly in the chest and Molly flexed his fingers, keeping himself from snapping with a severe effort of will. “It’s a well known practice since the attack on the tower in Zadash. And it’s only thanks to it that we haven’t seen more of their like running about unchecked.”

“Just because it’s _well known_ doesn’t mean it makes _any_ sense, you—” Molly started to snarl, before his voice was choked off by a lurching thrill of panic as he saw the Crownsguard’s gaze dart over his head to fix on Caleb. At some point in his tirade, it had nevertheless sank in that Molly’s companion was being very quiet and he was obviously in the mood to find that sort of thing suspicious.

“And you!” he said, stepping around Molly despite Molly’s continued attempts to block him. “What do you have to say for yourself, then?”

Caleb had nothing to say. Caleb simply stared up at the taller man with his eyes narrowed in undisguised hate, his breathing harsh and ragged. His eyes were glassy as if he’d fallen into a fugue state from burning someone to death, but _anger_ still smoldered beneath the haze like embers that refused to die. Despite their size difference, he refused to give ground or step back even as the guard crowded much too close into his personal space. The very idea didn’t seem to have occurred to him.

Molly hovered anxiously on the near periphery of their confrontation, torn between desperately wanting to intervene and fearing to fuck up an already delicate situation. Feeling his heart sink, he saw plainly as the Crownsguard took in the sight of Caleb’s book holsters, and then the tattered bandana, and then they both saw it as the man jumped to the absolutely correct conclusion. “Take that off,” he ordered, jerking his chin towards the cloth concealing Caleb’s forehead.

 _“Fich dich,”_ Caleb growled, and spat at the man’s feet. He did take a step back, then, and Molly saw something flash in the sunlight. The Crownsguard didn’t, focused as he was on the hidden brand, and that was just as well. If he’d noticed the knife in Caleb’s hand before Molly did, the situation might have become absolutely unsalvageable.

Not that Molly was in much of a position to think of a way to salvage the situation for a second that seemed to stretch into an eternity. His brain was seized much too tightly by panic and shock.

Because Caleb was about to stab a Crownsguard. Moonweaver in all her grace and glory guide him, _Caleb was about to stab a Crownsguard_.

Before he had time to really think about what he was doing, Molly stepped between Caleb and the guard and put on his most demonically charming smile even as he shoved Caleb firmly and completely behind himself. “Really now, there’s no need for any of that,” he purred, letting his infernal blood tinge his words with an extra layer of honey and poisonous sweetness. He angled himself towards the bigger man, tilted his head to let his eyes catch the light and resting his fingertips ever so lightly on his victim’s armored chest. “Aren’t you cute?”

The guard opened his mouth to shout, half raised a hand as if to shove Molly away from him...and then he went slack, his eyes wide and glassy.

Charming people had once been as easy as breathing, but it had only gotten harder since he’d left the circus, since he’d taken to the road with the Mighty Nein. Molly tried not to think too much about why that might be, because the likely answer was that he had only grown _less_ certain of himself and his place in the world since finding himself tangled up in this second family. The demonic side of him did not play nice with uncertainty, and so more often than not over the past few months he’d found some of his oldest tricks deserting him when he needed them most.

But he felt utterly certain of himself, now – desperate, scared, but certain that this was the best course of action and he was the only one who could do it. And so Molly felt his blood start to fizzle pleasantly inside him, heady and sweet, granting him the rush of power he needed to reach out with his mind and his words and enthrall his target.

It was an effort to maintain the effect, an effort to keep infusing his words with the right magic as he whispered obscene promises to the man and swayed himself just so back and forth, the way the cobra might before a mouse. There was a bad moment where Molly realized that he could still feel Caleb’s presence behind him, and wondered if he’d accidentally caught up his friend in the effect as well.

He could feel sweat beading on his forehead with the effort of exerting this much influence. He could feel his throat going dry. But Molly managed to regain just enough presence of mind to lash his tail out sharply to smack Caleb on the thigh, managed to hiss “get _going_ ” in the space of a breath.

Caleb made a startled sort of sound, and then, gods have mercy, Molly heard his footsteps suddenly retreating in the opposite direction. The poor sap of a Crownsguard didn’t even twitch at the sudden movement. He just turned like a man in a fever dream to follow Molly as Molly slowly sidled around him, until he was facing the other way, and then Molly turned and bolted in the opposite direction Caleb had gone.

He heard the Crownsguards’ increasingly faint shouting as he tried to determine which of them to chase. Of course, he ultimately settled on the tiefling. _Wonderful_. That had ultimately been the goal, of course, but Molly had never been much of a sprinter, and he wasn’t exactly easy to lose in a crowd.

An opportunity presented itself as he fled into one of the busier market streets, a broad thoroughfare lined with smaller booths among the shopfronts. Molly picked out a likely looking one that had some crates piled behind it.

Just as he felt his pursuer breathing down his neck, he jumped onto one of the crates, kicked the Crownsguard in the face, and used the added momentum to leap up onto the booth’s top, and then from there up onto the nearby roof before the fabric could finish tearing beneath him. It wasn’t quite as neat as he would have liked, he hit the edge of the roof with his chest hard enough to knock the wind out of him and leave him dangling precariously for a second. The Crownsguard came within a hair of grabbing him by the tail for his troubles.

Molly kicked out again, felt what was probably the bastard’s nose popping out of place, and from there took the chance to scramble up and onto the roof. No time to rest, he raced for the nearest next building and executed a thankfully more graceful leap, only stumbling a step before he was off again. This wasn’t his first time fleeing over the rooftops, after all, and at least this city offered a fair few to work with.

He didn’t stop until he could see the city walls, until he risked being spotted by the guards on patrol there. Molly shaded his eyes and stared around, trying to get his bearings, wondering where exactly he’d fled to. It was a quieter part of the city, at least, and so he felt safe lowering himself carefully down off the roof he was on and into a dark alleyway.

Jester’s voice was suddenly in his ear before he’d quite found his feet again, leading to Molly nearly falling to the ground in an ungainly heap.

_“Molly? Caleb is back at the inn. He said you almost got arrested. Did you get arrested? What happened?”_

“Long story,” Molly grumbled, dusting himself off, feeling relieved at her words all the same. “Tell you when I’m there in person.” He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of what had just happened, either, but he knew it boded nothing good – not for Caleb, not for any of them.

He slipped five gold to the first person with a cloak he saw outside the alley who looked to be about the right size, and that at least let him keep his horns, tail, coat out of sight as Molly made his way quickly back towards the inn.

So he hadn’t quite made it without adding “injury of a Crownsguard” to his list of crimes, but kicks to the face had to be lower on the list of priorities than stabbing, right? Or else what had the world come to?


	2. Arms Outstretched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the Mighty Nein discuss where to go from here. Molly and Caleb discuss what Caleb is still afraid to face. In the end, to help him process the roiling anger inside, they decide to start small.

Caleb was subdued and quiet, when Molly returned. He simply sat at the table the rest of the Nein had gathered around, staring at his hands where they were clenched tight and shaking in his lap.

Which made it a bit of a surprise to hear from the others that Caleb had already filled them in on recent events. He’d even done so honestly, as far as Molly could tell. So Molly grabbed the seat they’d left open for him and hastily reassured them of the rest of the story, that he was fine and had gotten away and yes, he was absolutely sure he hadn’t been followed.

“Not that I think it matters,” he finished, staring pensively down into the ale that Nott had fetched for him. “We’re a distinctive bunch. We should probably think about getting out of town sooner rather than later.”

“And then what?” Fjord asked, folding his arms and looking to each of them in turn. “We’ll still be a distinctive bunch in the next town, and the one after that. How do we stop this from happening again?”

“We don’t know that it _will_ happen again,” Molly retorted immediately. “This wasn’t anything we did wrong, this was one suspicious bastard of a Crownsguard who didn’t like us helping another wizard.”

“There’s suspicious bastard Crownsguard in every town,” Beau said, and Molly bit back a wince. That was an indisputably true point.

“We’re not going to fix the whole Empire before dinner,” Nott said, slamming her flask decisively down on the table to ensure all eyes were on her. “So let’s eat first. Fix later.”

There was a certain sort of logic in that, an immediate problem to be dealt with rather than a societal one, and a bluster to her words that they all found comforting. Fjord and Jester went up to flag someone down to bring food. Molly went to join them on instinct, only to be brought up short by the feeling of a hand wrapped loosely around his tail. It wasn’t tight, it wasn’t _gripping_. The person who had reached out knew they didn’t need to hold on tight. This was just a way for them to subtly indicate that they needed Molly’s attention.

When he looked back, Caleb hadn’t looked up from his lap, and the hand he’d reached out with probably wasn’t even visible over the tabletop. But that, of course, was the point.

Without a word being spoken, Molly sat back down beside Caleb, and the wizard shifted close enough that they were pressed shoulder-to-hip while they waited for food to arrive.

In the meantime, Molly took Caleb’s hand under the tabletop and brushed his thumb back and forth, back and forth over the pale, clammy skin until he felt some of the shaking and the tension subside.

Without a word being spoken, Yasha sat down on Caleb’s other side. Molly wasn’t surprised. They’d had an understanding, him and her and him, ever since this whole mess started.

Once food was in front of him, once the rest of the Mighty Nein were all back at the table, Caleb finally seemed to come back to himself a little. He darted glances around at all of them, occasionally smiled when he heard a good joke, spoke in reasonably complete sentences when spoken to. Molly was proud of him, and proud of the rest of the group for crowding around Caleb and making him feel safe again after everything.

Once or twice, he squeezed Caleb’s hand under the table. And Caleb always, always squeezed back.

After they’d eaten, in the moments where they were all still lingering around the table over scraps and empty tankards, Caleb slipped away with a murmured apology. They all let him go, but Molly knew he wasn’t the only one watching out of the corner of his eye as Caleb made his way upstairs.

For his part, Molly said nothing when he left the table. He knew he didn’t have to. He knew all of them knew exactly where he as going.

When he slipped into Caleb and Nott’s room and closed the door behind him, it was to find Caleb sitting on the bed. Frumpkin was curled up against his side as he sharpened his dagger. In other words, it was to find Caleb indulging in multiple nervous tics, evidently struggling to keep himself calm. He’d probably escaped from the table just in time.

He didn’t look up as Molly entered the room, but Molly saw through a telltale tightening in Caleb’s shoulders, a traitorous flick of Frumpkin’s ears, that both were well aware of him all the same. They were simply waiting for him to make the first move.

He just hoped it was the right one.

Molly folded his arms tight across his chest and leaned back against the wall by the door. “I just want to say, right from the start,” he began. “That I’m not angry over what happened. All right? None of us are.”

Caleb let out a shaky little breath, shoulders slumping. He nodded, just once, but didn’t lift his head.

Moving slowly, carefully, like a man creeping out over rotten ice, Molly crossed the distance between them. Just before he sat down on the bed, he looked to Frumpkin. After all, he knew by now that the little cat was smarter than he looked.

Frumpkin opened one eye, glanced up at Molly, and then closed it again. Molly took that as permission granted, and just in time - this close, he could see the way Caleb’s hands were shaking around the hilt of the knife and the curve of the whetstone.

“Better be careful,” he murmured, sitting down beside Caleb and loosely curling his fingers around the human’s wrist. “You’ll sharpen that thing to nothing if you aren’t careful.”

Caleb let out a short, sharp bark of a laugh, but didn’t fight the hold. He laid the whetstone down on the bed and returned the dagger to its sheathe. “It, ah, it helps me feel better,” he said. “And maybe that is the most use I can get out of it, these days.”

“Not sure about that. You looked ready to give that Crownsguard a _very_ bad day.” As Caleb flinched, Molly hastened on to add: “And he’d have deserved it. He was an arsehole. And I could see how badly he shook you up.”

“But you’re glad I didn’t,” Caleb finished.

Molly inclined his head, but said nothing in direct reply. Instead: “You look like you’re feeling a lot of feelings. You looked like it then and you look like that now. And I’m here to listen.”

Caleb’s next breath caught in his throat with a wet, pathetic little hiccup. He pressed one hand against his chest as if the very feeling was alien to him. He blinked once, twice, and then Molly’s heart ached to see that each blink was bringing with it a surge of tears.

“ _Mollymauk—”_

Caleb reached out with shaking hands to pull Frumpkin into his lap. The cat went willingly and stayed still, purring up a storm, as his human bowed forward and buried his face in his familiar’s fur. Molly shifted over into the space Frumpkin had vacated, then wrapped an arm around Caleb’s shoulders and pulled him close. He let Caleb collapse against him and _sob_ in frustration and repressed grief that, even now, he still refused to look at straight-on.

Not that Molly was really in any position to judge.

“I don’t,” Caleb was stammering. “I, I don’t _understand_ , I am so gods-damned _angry,_ all the time…”

“What’s not to understand about any of that?” Molly asked. “What’s happening here — not just here in this town, in this entire bloody Empire - it’s maddening. And you…you were one of the first people caught up in it.” They hadn’t even known this was expanding into an Empire-wide effort until Yasha had returned from one of her bouts of wandering to tell them as much. “And it should have stopped with you, and it didn’t, and—” Now he was the one getting frustrated, angry on Caleb’s behalf, and that wouldn’t help anyone. Molly pressed one fist into his eye until he saw stars, then bit back a sigh and kissed the top of Caleb’s head. “Oh, sweetheart, I am _so_ sorry.”

Unbidden, unwanted, a memory came to him - back during the time Caleb had been without his mind, back when he’d been under the effects of that very same spell that had afflicted the man in the alley, and the Mighty Nein hadn’t been strong enough to fix him on their own. Everything had been so frustrating for him, as he struggled to relearn how to navigate a world which he definitely _remembered_ had made sense before.

One time he’d gotten so overwhelmed by Nott trying to show him how to cut his food that he’d flung the knife away, hard enough to leave it stuck, point first and quivering, in a nearby tree.

The way Nott had cheered and cooed over him, her face lit with pride, had probably sent some mixed signals. But at least it had kept his agitation from spiraling even tighter.

And when even Nott’s efforts to soothe him had failed, it had usually fallen to Molly. Molly had been the one they’d trusted to pull him close and pet his hair and make all the right noises until Caleb’s frustration faded, usually leaving nothing but trembling exhaustion in its wake. Molly had been the one they’d trusted to sit with Caleb’s head in his lap, braiding and unbraiding his fine red hair, until Caleb had almost seemed to purr just as loud as Frumpkin could and whatever had upset him seemed just a distant memory.

The fact that Caleb had also trusted Molly with all of that - trusted him willingly, happily, _easily_ \- had been even more remarkable. And Molly had caught himself thinking, both in the moment and after things were okay again, that he’d like it if he and Caleb could get back to that point again. He’d like it if Caleb could ever feel comfortable around him to trust him so freely and want to be that close again, even when he was properly himself.

He’d never wanted it to happen because the world had gotten even worse and more unforgiving, and yet here they were.

They stayed like that in silence for a time. Molly rubbed up and down Caleb’s arm in big, soothing strokes and added his soothing nonsense murmurs to the sound of Frumpkin’s purring. He didn’t get any closer - Caleb still didn’t like people getting _too_ close when he was upset. He just let his friend know that he was there, and gave Caleb someone to lean against while he shook apart.

Only when Caleb seemed to have exhausted himself fully, only when his breathing had gone ragged and slow but otherwise steady, did Molly dare to speak again.

“It’s not too late, you know.” 

Caleb stirred sluggishly, but otherwise didn’t lift his head from Molly’s shoulder. “Mm?”

He sounded so very sleepy, and Molly almost gave up and set the matter aside again, but…no. _Later_ had to be _now_ , or this was only going to get worse and he might not be there to intervene next time. “We could still go back to the place where they did that to you, burn it to the ground. We could still find whoever did this to you and get our pound of flesh back.”

Caleb tensed immediately. Deep down, Molly had known he would. He pulled away a little, hunching further in on himself and shaking his head frantically. “N-No,” he stammered. “We, w-we can’t. Too dangerous. No.”

It was the very same answer he’d given the last time Molly had broached the subject, and doubtless the answer he’d given when the rest of the Mighty Nein had doubtless done the same. 

This time, however, Molly refused to drop the matter so easily. 

“Carrying on like we are is dangerous and _do not_ give me anything about how that means you should leave.” The words came out sharper than he intended, but the way Caleb flinched told him that he’d guessed right. “Wandering around taking jobs and fighting monsters and being the collection of bastards we are while the Empire is at war is dangerous. You can’t spare us that. They’d keep trying to force us into this war one way or another. I’d rather things be dangerous because I fought back, Caleb. I know the others would say the same.”

Vengeance wasn’t always the way, but a person could only be ground down so far without doing something to stop it. Molly didn’t like to think of himself as a vengeful person by nature, but when confronted with a system that broke people into nothing if they wouldn’t fight, even he wanted to burn it down. 

They would always be good at running but they were running out of places to run _to_. The snare was drawing tighter around them and every person like them, like Caleb. Maybe it was time to start kicking. 

…but still, that could ultimately only be Caleb’s decision. He might be the reason they all wanted to draw blood against the Empire. But they couldn’t let him turn into their _excuse_.

“Just try and think about it,” was what he said out loud, murmuring quietly. “Try and think about whatever will make _you_ feel better, hm? Whatever will help you get this off your chest. We’re with you, whatever you decide. Me and all of us. And Frumpkin, too.” A beat, and then he decided to go for broke: “We won’t let you go back there.”

Caleb did finally lift his head then. He looked at Molly with overbright eyes and a wan smile.

And then, wonder of wonders, he leaned in close enough to press their brows together - to cradle Molly’s cheek with a brush of his hand and press a kiss against his forehead that felt like a benediction.

“I know,” he said, and Molly felt a thrill of relief in his heart to realize that Caleb was being sincere. 

Then Caleb slumped, the momentary fire fading back to banked embers. “I am,” he began, staring down at Frumpkin. He swallowed noticeably and tried again. “I am tired.” 

“‘Course you are. Do you think you can sleep?”

Caleb hummed thoughtfully, then nodded once. “Mhm.”

“Glad to hear it.” In that case, his sachets of lavender sleeping tea could wait for a harder day than this one - and Molly didn’t doubt that, for as exhausting as today had suddenly become, there would be harder days in the future. “Want me to go and get Nott?”

“Please.”

Molly got to his feet, stretched, then started for the door.

“Mollymauk?” Caleb asked softly. Molly froze, hand on the handle, and half-glanced back. Not far enough to get a proper look, just enough to let Caleb know that he had Molly’s attention.

“Mhm?”

“…thank you. For, um, for staying close by. For listening. For being as…very reassuring as you are.”

“Happy to help.”

He might have left the room then. He very nearly almost did. Except, Caleb still sounded faintly disbelieving, still seemed just a little surprised, like it was still so unexpected that he should deserve and receive this comfort and this promise of support.

So instead, Molly took a deep breath, said a silent prayer to the Moonweaver, then turned on his heel and marched back towards the bed. He stood before Caleb with his hands on his hips, staring down at the wizard with mock sternness, as Caleb looked up at him with genuine puzzlement. 

Then Molly grinned, big and broad enough to show just a flash of fangs. Then he leaned in close enough to kiss Caleb soundly on the top of the head and pat his cheek. “You,” he said, with theatrical solemnity. “Are very cute. And entirely worth fighting for.” 

Caleb immediately blushed to the tips of his ears and halfway down his neck. He stared down at his lap, but not fast enough to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips. “ _Dankeschoen_ _,_ Mollymauk,” he murmured. 

He sounded embarrassed but he also sounded genuinely amused, and that emboldened Molly to press the show a little further. He prodded Caleb in the forehead with two fingers, just to the left of where they both knew the brand was hidden under his bandana. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“I want to hear you say ‘I am very cute and entirely worth fighting for’. Just so I know you believe it.”

Caleb’s shoulders shook just slightly, and he let out a huff of breath that Molly could tell was edged with a laugh. He didn’t lift his head, and Molly thought with a thrill that this was maybe because Caleb didn’t want to betray how amused he was. Caleb was _playing along_. 

“I,” the wizard said, with equally showy solemnity. “Am very cute. And entirely worth fighting for.”

“Good boy!” Molly enthused, and this time he pulled Caleb close enough to messily kiss on the cheek and Caleb actually did laugh, a bright little giggle that escaped him before he could hold it back and Molly had never had a prayer answered in quite such a wonderful fashion before. 

“All right,” he said, pulling away properly once more and nodding decisively. “I’ll get out of your hair and go get Nott.”

“Thank you.”

“Get some sleep, all right? You’ve earned it, and we’ll probably be moving on tomorrow. Not that that’s your fault.”

“I will. Ah, Mollymauk?”

This time, Molly had barely had time to turn away, and was happy to turn back. “Mhm?”

He was heartened to see that, whatever Caleb was about to say, it had kindled a bright and curious light in his eyes. “I just wanted to ask, before…in the next town. If, ah, if they have the supplies, I do not really know what is involved but, but if they do—”

“I’m resourceful. I know how to find shit.”

“You said, once, er…you said you thought I would look good with, ah, more color?”

Molly brightened immediately and clapped his hands together. “I did. I still do. Have you started to think that, too?”

The way Caleb scratched at the bandana, just over the brand, was _probably_ an unconscious tic. But it still told Molly a lot more than just the word he said next. “Perhaps.”

Today had been a brutal reminder that, in a lot of ways, Caleb couldn’t hide anymore. And if people were going to stare at him anyway, why not give them something else to stare at? 

It was a line of thought that Molly was intimately familiar with, and he could see it reflected in Caleb’s eyes.

“I’ll brainstorm ideas on the road,” Molly promised, a touch breathless with the possibilities. “We’ll talk it all out, we’ll get Jester to draw it, and we’ll get started once we’re settled down again. Oh, Caleb, I am going to make _absolutely sure_ you don’t regret this.”

“I know,” Caleb said, with painstaking simplicity. And then: “I trust you.”

Molly wondered if this was what flying felt like. 

But the fact remained that he was not an especially intelligent man, certainly not an eloquent one when someone like Caleb had just laid him bare with four short words. So - beaming fit to burst - Molly simply replied with: “Tomorrow, then. Get some sleep.”

“Tomorrow. Good night, Mollymauk.”

It was all Molly could do not to _skip_ as he left the room and made his way downstairs and told Nott that her boy was waiting for her. 

As she told him later via copper wire, Caleb was already asleep by the time she joined him. 


End file.
